


Keep You Like an Oath

by Tinuviel_Undomiel



Category: Once Upon A Time - Fandom, Rumbelle - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Female on Male Rape, Forced Kiss, Rape trauma, tw: rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-04-12 08:38:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4472645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tinuviel_Undomiel/pseuds/Tinuviel_Undomiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the death of her father, Belle agrees to help her old friend by working as a housekeeper for his father. She quickly realizes that Mr. Gold is harboring a terrible secret, one that will shock his family and lead to things neither of them expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Start of Something

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lizandletdie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizandletdie/gifts).



> All of you must blame standbyyourmantis (lizandletdie) for this. It is all her fault! Be forewarned, this fic is full of angst.

            The sound of ceramic shattering, stainless silverware rattling, and the thunk of heavy wood hitting the scuffed floor brought the usual din of chatter in the diner to a halt. Belle French stood there, dozens of eyes set on her. Soda, ketchup, and minestrone soup were splattered all over her uniform. Everyone perused the situation, many giggling at the sight of the mess. Some returned to their meals quickly enough, more watched as she sank to her knees to start cleaning everything up.

            “Here, Belle, let me help,” Ruby Lucas said before she bent down to do just that. All of the men in the diner leaned forward to get a perfect view of her ass in a pair of tiny red shorts.

            “It’s fine, I can do it—ouch!” Belle let out a hiss. One of the broken plates was particularly sharp, slicing a nice red line down her palm.

            Ruby took her hand and examined the damage. “Why don’t you go to Granny’s office and clean that up? I’ll finish up here.”

            “No, it’s fine.”

            She might have managed to convince Ruby to let her clean up her own mess, but Granny was too busy observing them. Obviously the crash had drawn her attention as well. “Go handle that, Belle,” Granny said, “I can’t have you bleeding all over the floor.”

            Belle clambered to her feet, pressing a napkin to her injured palm. She left the diner and walked back to Granny’s office. She always kept a first aid kit in the filing cabinet. Belle took it with her to the bathroom and applied the proper ointments before putting on the bandage. Once that was done, she stood there at the sink, looking at her disheveled reflection.

            It hadn’t been her first time dropping a tray. It was actually her fourth time that week. Not only that, but she’d spilt a bucket of used cooking oil, almost broke the coffee machine when she tripped on her wet rag, and did succeed in falling into the dumpster when throwing out the trash. Everyone in the diner had to be wondering how long she would last. The worst part was they were all wrong.

            Granny would never have the heart to fire Belle, even though she knew she was the worst waitress in the history of dining. There was a reason everyone called her Granny. As tough as she could be, she was loving to all who won her approval. As long as Belle was desperate for money and a home, Granny would make sure she had a job and a roof over her head with her.

            Belle had been friends with Ruby since grade school. Her father had opened the flower shop as block over and the two girls had bonded on the bus ride from school. They had managed to stay in touch even when Belle went to college. Moe French had received a positive cancer diagnosis during her senior year, so she’d dropped out to care for him. Ruby and Granny had helped her so much on this rollercoaster for the past six years. They had stood by her side as she’d held her father’s hand three months ago while he finished his last breath after fighting for long.

            Mountains of debt had ended with her selling their apartment, the flower shop, and the majority of the insurance and savings. This left her with no job, no money, and no choice but to rely on the goodness of her friends.

            Belle couldn’t complain. Things could certainly be worse, but she hated living on charity. Most of all, she missed her father terribly and working in the diner where they had frequently had lunch or ordered take-out did not help.

            Sometimes she thought about taking what remained of her funds and leaving. The problem was she had nowhere to go. She had no family left in the world. She may have been born in Australia, but she hadn’t been back since she was seven. This was all she knew.

            Belle took her break an hour later, nursing a glass of ice tea on the back steps. Ruby snagged herself an ice cream cone and leaned against the wall as she took long licks.

            “Are you going to the movies with Victor this Friday?” Belle asked.

            Ruby nodded. “You’re welcome to come. We’re gong to see that new Marvel movie.”

            “No thanks,” Belle said, “I’ll be fine at home.”

            Ruby grinned. “Oh I’m sure you’ll be cooped up with Mr. Darcy for company.”

            “I’ll be with Mr. Holmes tonight, thank you very much,” Belle said.

            “Well, you could do worse than Robert Downey Jr.”

            Belle shook her head at her. “Well I can’t argue with that.”

            “Do you ever think about getting out once in a while, Belle?”

            Belle took a swallow of her tea. “What do you mean? We got the Rabbit Hole every Saturday night.”

            “Yeah, and you always bring a book with you in case you get bored.” Ruby polished off her cone, using a napkin to wipe the residue from her hands. “When was the last time you went on a date?”

            Her memory did an immediate search for the answer, but knew better than to admit that fact to Ruby. “You know what I’ve been through these past few years,” Belle said, “Dating just hasn’t been on my mind.”

            “I get that, I really do, but you’re twenty-seven years old. Don’t you think you should be out their experiencing life rather than reading about it in books?”

            “I’m quite happy with my books,” Belle said.

            “Yeah, but are _you_ happy?”

            “I…” Belle stopped. Could she really say yes to that? Her father had only been in his grave for three months. Sometimes she still expected to hear him asking if she wanted pancakes for breakfast every time she sleepily wandered into the kitchen. More than that though, when was the last time she was happy? She had six years experience as a manager in a flower shop, but that had never been what she wanted to do with her life. It had been so long since she thought about what her dreams were that she couldn’t even remember what they had been.

            “Break time is over,” Belle said, both in relief and regret. As much as she wanted to avoid Ruby’s questions, she wasn’t entirely ready to face the draining shift ahead of her.

            As planned, Belle spent her night reading _Sherlock Holmes_ with a cup of tea and some brownies Granny had left over. It was a fun night for her standards, though she imagined many would think she was just being a nerd. Yet Ruby’s question haunted her. Is this really what she wanted to do with the rest of her life?

            The next morning brought in the breakfast crowd, but at least she was getting off before the lunch rush. She managed not to drop any plates, but she did spill the mop bucket by tripping over it. Maybe one-day scientists would invent a cure for clumsiness.

            It was only just reaching a quarter past eleven and it was almost time for Belle to clock out. Leroy was in for a sandwich and a glass of whiskey, but he was the only person in the diner. Hopefully she would be able to squeeze out of there before it got crowded. The ring of the bell announced the start of the rush, a bit to early for her taste. She bit back her groan, put on her best smile and turned around. “Welcome to…Neal?”

            Neal Gold smiled back at her, his grin reaching all the way to his mischievous brown eyes. He hadn’t changed much since college. His wavy brown hair was a bit shorter, slightly more tamed, and there were a few new wrinkles around his eyes, but other than that he was still the same. He had traded in his Foo-Fighters shirt for a simple button down, but still wore a faded pair of blue jeans and his ratty sneakers.

            “Can I get a hamburger and a hug from an old friend?” he asked.

            Belle smiled, immediately going over to the give him the latter. She couldn’t quite remember the last time she’d seen him. They’d met only a handful of times after she had dropped out, but had managed to keep in touch with emails.

            “Can we have lunch or are you busy?” Neal asked her.

            “My shift is up actually, so sure.” She ushered him to the nearest booth where they both took a seat. Ashley came by to take their orders. He got a burger and a large soda, while Belle got the same with an iced tea.

            “So how have you been?” he asked her.

            “Fine,” she replied.

            “I’m sorry about your dad,” Neal said, “one thing you can say for sure, he was a fighter.”

            Belle nodded. “Six years,” she replied.

            “Have you been okay since?”

            She shrugged. “I miss him, but I’m glad he’s not in any pain now. Some days are worse than others.”

            “I’m sorry,” he said again, “I wish I could do something to really help.”

            “Changing the subject is a start,” she said, “How are things with Emma?”

            Neal smiled at the mention of his wife. Emma had been one of Belle’s high school friends and roommate in college. The three of them had hung out together for study times and Spring Break. Emma still dropped by the Rabbit Hole for Girl’s Night with them on occasion. Her sister, Mary Margaret was also part of the group, often working as Ruby’s wingman when Belle backed down.

            “Emma is great. She’s gearing up for a promotion to homicide before the year is out.”

            Ashley came and brought them their drinks, promising their food would be out shortly. “Is it odd being married to a cop?” Belle asked him before taking a sip of her tea.

            Neal grinned. “I know to never piss her off if that’s what you mean.”

            She giggled. “You knew that in college.”

            “Yeah, but I really learned the risks when she was pregnant.”

            “Oh, how is Henry? He’s two now right?”

            “In a month he will,” Neal said. He pulled out his phone, swiping a few buttons on the screen before he smiled down at a photo. “Here he is playing with his favorite toy.”

            Henry was a chubby little toddler with big, apple sized cheeks and baby fine brown hair. He had a large, laughing smile on his face as he cuddled with a stuffed dragon. He was a sweet looking boy, just as lovable and happy like his father.

            “Aww, he’s adorable,” Belle said, “You and Emma got lucky.”

            “She likes to take most of the credit, and with her having been in labor for fourteen hours, I let her.”

            Belle laughed, almost spilling her drink. She had forgotten how nice it was to connect with an old friend. She had been so focused on her father for so long that it was hard to remember she had once lived a very different life with people who had once been her dearest confidents.

            “So what else is going on? Are you still working for your father?” Belle asked just as the food arrived. Neal had decided to go to law school just before she had dropped out. He may have enjoyed giving his father a heart attack by taking Music Theory and Acting 101, but he’d confided that he’d always intended to be a lawyer like his father. He liked to give his father a hard time, but the man was truly his role model.

            His smile faltered just a bit. “Yeah, I actually got promoted to partner about six months ago.”

            “Wow! That’s incredible, Neal! Your dad must be proud of you.”

            He nodded. “Yeah, I guess he is.”

            Neal was stirring some ketchup with a fry, now barely touching his lunch. This was the same guy who ate seven hotdogs in one sitting and still had room for a slice of Granny’s apple pie. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

            He sighed. “I don’t know. Around the same time I got promoted, my dad started acting differently.”

            “How?”

            “More standoffish,” Neal said, “not just with people he didn’t know, but even with colleagues.”

            “Well that doesn’t seem too strange,” Belle said.

            “You met my dad at the wedding, right?”

            Belle shook her head. “No, my father was brought back to the hospital the week before, so I couldn’t go.”

            “Oh yeah, that’s right. Well my father has never been a sociable guy, but he’s never been this…well, mean.”

            “Aren’t all lawyers like that?” Belle said, giving him a wink.

            “Cute,” he teased, “but I’m serious here. He could be aggressive in business and he certainly has a temper, but never like this before. He’s started avoiding work even. A few weeks ago he had this breakdown or something, refused to work on this case at all. He’s been drinking more too.”

            “Oh Neal, I’m sorry to hear that,” she said genuinely.

            “Last week, one of our clients got spooked and bolted, so I said he needed to take a break. He went home, got very drunk, and started tearing apart his house, even tried to light his bed on fire. He scared the housekeeper so much that she left without even taking her belongings.”

            “Oh my,” she gasped.

            He looked down at his food again. “I didn’t mean to unload all of that on you.”

            “No, it’s fine. Have you thought about getting him some help?”

            “He hates psychiatrists, always has. Really, I just need someone to keep an eye on him and the house, let me know if he’s a threat to himself or not.”

            “That makes sense,” she said.

            Neal nodded. He looked up from his half-eaten burger, a serious look on his face. It reminded her of that time when he was certain their chemistry partner was cheating and he was dead set on proving it. He’d been right then, so she knew he trusted his gut to be right now.

            “Belle, Emma told me that you haven’t been happy working here, and I know money must be tight after all of the medical expenses. I was wondering if maybe you could help me out with my dad.”

            Belle dropped her burger on her plate. “Me? But Neal, I’m not a nurse.”

            “I know you helped out with your father,” Neal said, “and he doesn’t really need a nurse, just someone who can watch out for him.”

            “But why me?”

            “I need someone I can trust. I don’t want word of all of this getting out and I know my dad wouldn’t either. I know you can be discreet with this.”

            “Of course I would, but I don’t know what good I could do in this situation,” she said. She may have taken one psychology course, but that had focused more on Freud and less on therapy.

            “Just think about it,” Neal said, “I’m not going to be mad if you say no. I would just appreciate it if you would consider it, and don’t worry, I’d pay you for your trouble.”

            “I’m not worried about the money, Neal,” Belle said, “I’d be more worried about disappointing you.”

            Neal reached across the table to lightly hold her wrist. “You’ve always been a good friend to me, Belle. I know you would never disappoint me.”

            He had to leave soon after lunch so they didn’t have the time to explore their old haunts. Instead, Belle went back to the apartment she shared with Ruby and Granny to think about all he had said. It really was a lot to consider.

            It was certainly a more lucrative opportunity than waitressing at the diner, and Granny’s china would benefit from her absence. At the same time, she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was partly done out of charity. Surely Neal could find someone far more qualified to help with his father, someone with a degree in this sort of thing.

            Then again, could he really trust a person who would just see his dad as another number on a list of patients? She knew doctors and nurses like that, ones who didn’t know the names of their patients, just the problems and list of treatments. Maybe they knew the ways of medicine, but they didn’t know how to help the families.

            It was also Neal. He was the guy who brought her ice cream when she has strep throat, who punched out a frat boy for grabbing her ass after a game, who drove her home when she got the news that her father had cancer. Could she really turn down an opportunity to help him when he had done so much for her?

            Belle settled down for a movie this time, but couldn’t focus on Humphrey Bogart tonight. She thought about everything Neal had said about his father when they were in college. Oh thee had been some of the usual complaints of him being a hard-ass, but Neal had also been fiercely protective of his dad. Once he got word that his father had been in minor car accident and Neal had simply left his books in class, gotten into his car and drove to see his father immediately.

            It all stemmed from the fact that his father had raised Neal entirely by himself. His wife had run off when Neal was still very young. Not only did he have a child to take care of, but he’d been studying to be a lawyer too. It was no wonder Neal was proud of his father and aspired to be more like him. It was no wonder Neal was so worried about him now.

            Ruby came home right after the dinner shift was up. Belle turned off her movie the moment her friend walked in. “Hi, Ruby,” Belle said.

            “Hey, how’s it going?”

            “Don’t even pretend like you don’t know who came today,” Belle said.

            Ruby shrugged, giving her a sheepish smile. “How’s Neal?”

            “He’s good, but I suspect you already knew that.”

            “Not really, I just ran into Emma last night is all,” Ruby said, “Henry’s going to be a heartbreaker when he grows up.”

            “Yes he is, but don’t try to change the subject. What did you tell Emma?”

            Ruby took a beer from the fridge, kicked off her shoes, and plopped onto the couch next to her. “Just that you aren’t meant for this kind of a job. I mean, I like it and I know one day I’ll be running the place, so it’s what I want, but not you, Belle. I know you want more.”

            “I don’t have many options as it is.”

            “No, but maybe this job Neal has for you will open up some more.”

            Belle twisted one strand of hair around her finger. “Do you think I should take it?”

            “I think you won’t know if it’s for you until you try it,” Ruby said, “Besides, you know Granny and I will always be here to help you out if you need it.”          

            “I hope you and Granny know how grateful I am.”

            “Of course,” Ruby said. She wrapped one arm around her shoulders and gave her a one-armed hug. “I’m going to miss having you around though, it’s been like an extra-long sleepover.”

            “I’ll be around, don’t worry,” Belle said with a smile.

            Ruby grinned back at her. “You look excited, Belle.”

            “I am excited,” she said, “I don’t know, but I think this is the change I’ve been looking for.”

* * *

            Neal picked her up at Granny and Ruby’s inn on Monday. Belle already had her possessions packed up, which included two duffel bags of clothes and one large box of books. “You do know my father has a library, right?” he told her in a strained voice as he tried to balance the box in his arms.       

            “Yeah, but these are my favorites, he may not have them,” Belle said.

            Neal adjusted the box for a better grip. “Do you ever throw books away?”

            She let out a gasp. “Of course not! What if I wanted to read it again?”

            “Right, stupid question.”

            They loaded up his red ’67 Chevy Impala and headed to the Upper West Side. Belle and Ruby had once visited here just on a lark as teenagers, pretending they were wealthy heiresses on their way to a party. It had been fun, but neither of them had ever really thought they would make it up to this level. It was kind of intimidating knowing she was going to be living one of these billion dollar residences. Ruby would want to know if she was living next door to a celebrity, but Belle was more worried that she wouldn’t fit into this type of place.

            Neal stopped outside a beautiful brownstone with a lovely arched doorway and a carefully swept front stoop. “You’re dad lives here?” Belle asked.

            “He’s got a place in the Hampton’s too for the summer.”

            “Impressive,” she had to admit. It was hard to believe Neal wasn’t a snob since he’d lived in such luxury. Belle had never had money, nor did Emma, but in college he’d never gravitated towards the other rich kids. He’d always been a sort of down-to-earth guy. She couldn’t help but be curious as to who raised him to be like that.

            “Maybe you can convince dad to go this year,” Neal said, “I’m sure you would enjoy it.”

            It would be nice to sit at the beach and read at least, but for now she knew she needed to get to know Mr. Gold. This shouldn’t be too hard, right? Despite what Neal had told her, surely it was just a bit of a phase. Maybe he just needed some good cheering up to make him right as rain again.

            Neal unlocked the door and ushered Belle inside. There was a formal entryway with a marble floor and a glittering chandelier at it’s top. “Are those real crystals?” she asked, staring up at the fixture.

            “Swarovski’s,” he said. Neal craned his head around. “Dad? Dad? It’s me, Neal.”

            Belle could hear a door close down a small hallway to the left of the parlor. Footsteps pattered towards them along with a gentle tapping sound. “Neal? This is a surprise. What are you doing…?”

            Mr. Gold silenced himself when he rounded the corner. Belle could only vaguely remember seeing a picture or two of him when Neal was in college. He had had long sandy brown hair, streaked with silver, which hit his shoulders. It was not a common look for a man his age, but it suited him well. His eyes were a rich brown with flecks of amber in their depths. They looked warmly at his son at first, but when they set sight on Belle the immediately turned cold. “What is she doing here?”

            He looked at her like she was a giant cockroach in need of being exterminated immediately. Belle stared at her outfit, trying to see what it was that offended him. She wasn’t wearing anything that was out of the ordinary. So it was just her.

            “Dad, this is Belle French,” Neal said, “She’s been a friend of mine since college.”

            That did nothing to melt the glacial stare he was giving her. “What is she doing here, Neal.”

            “She’s going to take over for Mrs. Watkins.”

            “Send her away, I don’t need her.”

            “You both realize I am right here,” Belle said, waving one hand to try and get their attention.

            “She’s staying,” Neal insisted, “You can’t run this house by yourself, not with your knee the way it is.”

            “I can live with a little dust.”

            “This isn’t just about the cleaning. I’m worried about you.”

            “Don’t,” Gold said, “I’m fine. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

            “You aren’t fine. You’re drinking all the time and you’re scaring away the hired help, that in no way fits the definition of fine.”

            “Dammit, Neal!” He slammed his cane onto the ground. “I am a grown man and I _do not_ need a babysitter!”

“Could have fooled me, you’re acting like a child.”

“I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“Well then try acting like it.” Neal raked one hand through his hair and shook his head. “Dad, just tell me what’s wrong. If you do that, then I’ll agree to bringing Belle home.”

She knew technically her job was at risk, but Belle wasn’t going to protest if Neal turned around and took her back to Granny’s. Whatever was going on between father and son was far more important than her employment issues.

            Gold remained silent.

            “Okay then,” Neal said, still looking at his father, “Belle, let me show you to your room.”

            Belle saw that Gold kept an iron grip on his cane, his knuckles white. His eyes were on her the entire time. She tried not to look back at him as Neal led her towards the staircase.

            Gold didn’t follow them like she had expected. He went back down the hall, opened a door, slamming it shut behind him. She doubted Neal would get a “goodbye” out of him.

* * *

            Neal couldn’t stay long. Emma was called in on a case so he had to go watch Henry, but he did give her a brief tour of the house after showing her to her room. She was on the same floor as Mr. Gold, but his bedroom was dark and even a little dusty. “I got the bed cleaned,” Neal told her, “so you don’t have to worry about that. All he managed to do was douse it with liquor before the housekeeper caught him.”

            She pondered over this while she went to the kitchen to prepare dinner for them both. Oh she’d gotten angry enough to destroy a few things of her own. When the doctors had finally announced that her father’s cancer was terminal after six years of fighting, Belle had taken some old mugs and thrown them out on the street just to release some of the bitterness welling up inside of her. Still, she never would have gone after anything of value, especially if it risked destroying her whole house.

            Belle had learned to cook after her mother died when she was thirteen. Despite her natural ability to trip over the air in front of her, she was pretty good in the kitchen. Tonight she didn’t have time for anything elaborate, so she went with spaghetti and salad for the meal. She set the table with the plates and silverware she found in the cupboards, hoping that he kept his expensive china stored somewhere else.

            The door to the study was still closed. A test of the handle proved it was locked as well. Belle rapped on the panel with her knuckles. “Mr. Gold?”

            “Go away,” she heard his muffled growl from inside.

            “It’s dinner time.”

            “I’m not hungry.”

            “Do you like spaghetti?” she asked instead.

            “No.”

            “Everyone likes spaghetti,” she insisted, “Please come out, Mr. Gold. You must be hungry.”

            Silence. She had to admit, the man could win an award for stubbornness.

            “I really don’t want to have to tell Neal that you are going on a hunger strike,” Belle said, “He’s worried about you enough as it is.”

            It was a low blow, but she had to do something. Gold needed to eat and she had a feeling he would do anything to make sure his son was happy.

            The click of the lock releasing told her she was right. The door opened and the grumpy face of Mr. Gold appeared. Belle gave him a big smile. “Hungry? I know I am.”

            He gave her a grunt of acknowledgement. He remained behind her, his steps slow and cautious all the way to the kitchen. Belle took a seat at the table where the two plates lay close together on the surface. Gold picked up his plate of spaghetti and slid it down to the opposite end of the table, as far from her as he could possibly get.

            Belle swallowed any words of protest, just stuck her fork into her salad and began to eat. “So do you have any food allergies that I need to know about?”

            “No,” he mumbled over his plate.

            “That’s good, I wouldn’t want to accidently poison you if I was making shrimp scampi.”

            He let out another grunt while stirring at his spaghetti with his fork. Apparently he was not going to be chatty tonight.

            “So, is there any particular routine you need me to follow?” Belle asked.

            “For what?” he asked.

            “For cleaning the house,” she clarified, “When do you want me to do laundry, dust the furniture, those sorts of things?”

            “It truly makes no difference to me,” Gold said, “Clean as little as you like, maybe that will convince my son that you aren’t necessary.”

            Belle gave him a dry smile. “No doubt you have inspired many with such an attitude.”

            He narrowed his dark eyes at her. “I made it very clear that I didn’t want you here.”

            “Yes you did, but I am here and I intend to do my job.”

            “Aren’t the youth in this country supposed to have a terrible work ethic? Can’t you take after them?”

            “Call me a revolutionary,” she said, hoping he’d crack a smile. He didn’t.

            This was turning out to be a very lonely meal. He ate very little. In fact, now that she truly looked at him, he was quite thin. Odd, while none of the pictures in the home showed him as a very large man, he’d at least had some meat on his bones. He was nearly as gaunt as he father was this past year. Could that be it? Was he ill?

            Belle studied him for a while. Gold stiffened when he felt her gaze, glaring at her over his cooling meal. “What are you looking at, dearie?”

            “Nothing,” she said, furiously digging into her spaghetti now.

            He was thin, yes, but she could tell that was his natural hair and not a clever prosthetic. He also wasn’t pale like her father was not could she see any discoloration in his hands or face. No, he wasn’t sick, at least she could assure Neal on that score.

            “Well I could go shopping tomorrow for groceries,” Belle said, “And do some dusting if you like.”

            Another grunt.

            “Wednesday is when you take care of Henry, right? I remember Neal telling me about that.” She saw the scowl on his face soften a bit at the mention of his grandson.

            “Yes,” he said, “Wednesdays are my days with him.”

            “Well how about I tackle the rooms you frequent then? I can strip your bed, clean your bathroom, I’ll even clean your study.”

            He froze. “Do _not_ go into my study,” he hissed.

            “I’m just saying that I can—.”

            “That is _my_ space,” he growled at her, “I won’t let you or anyone else take that away from me.”

            Belle frowned at him. “I’m not going to take anything from you. I’m just going to—.”

            “No!” he shouted. Gold stood up from the table, his face fixed in a snarl. “I don’t want you to clean my study or anywhere else in this house! I don’t want your smiles, your teasing, or anything!”

            “I’m just—.”

            “Leave me alone!”

            With one grand sweep of his arm, he tossed his plate of spaghetti and his glass of tea all onto to the floor. The ceramic shattered, spaghetti and tomato sauce splattered all over the tile, tea puddled around the mess. Belle stared at him; her jaw slack and mouth open wide. He looked at her a brief moment, then stormed out of the room.

            She sat in her spot motionless for a while. Had that really happened? Even with the proof right in front of her, she still couldn’t quite believe it. Finally, she slid out of her seat and set to cleaning up the mess.

            Neal was right, there was something wrong with his father. This was not simply age or illness. Something had changed in Mr. Gold. Belle couldn’t even begin to guess on what the problem was, but she knew one thing: it would not be easy getting to the bottom of this.


	2. Inner Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gold struggles with his emotions and wonders if he can trust Belle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is shorter than I normally go for, but it hurt me so much writing in Gold's POV, my poor woobie. Still, I hope you all enjoy this update!

            Nicholas Gold woke up with an aching head and a crick his neck, just like he did every morning now. So this is what his life had become? He who had built himself a small empire was now sleeping on the sofa in his study. His father’s voice rang in his ears, _You’re pathetic! A miserable, worthless little worm!_ He couldn’t disagree anymore.

            He could hear rattling coming from the kitchen when he poked his head out. At least with that girl occupied he had time to get in another shower. It would be his second that morning. Somehow being under scalding hot water and scrubbing his skin raw helped just a bit, like he could wipe away the horrid memories and ugly truths with just a bit of soap.

            Gold’s hair was still damp when he went back downstairs, fully intending on returning to his study. Unfortunately, Miss French proved to be a formidable obstacle. She cornered him at the bottom of the stairs, a giant smile on her face. She was very pretty when she smiled, but that just made her all the more untrustworthy.

            “I made eggs and bacon for breakfast this morning,” she said, “and the tea is nice and hot just the way you like it. Are you hungry?”

            He thought about refusing her again, but Neal had called him yesterday telling him that he needed to eat or he would have to see about hiring a nurse to check on him. He really didn’t want that, so he had no choice but to follow Miss French to the kitchen.

            Despite the fact that she tripped on the rug two days ago, creating a large ruckus that scared the daylights out of him, she at least proved she wasn’t a clumsy cook. The bacon was crisp and steamy, the eggs perfectly golden, even the toast was just how he liked it. Mrs. Wilkins had never made toast right.

            That didn’t mean he could trust her.

            “Were you taking a shower this morning at three?”

            Gold choked on his coffee. “What?” he sputtered into his napkin.

            “Well I thought I heard the shower going in the middle of the night,” Miss French said, “I was just curious.”

            “Don’t be curious then,” he hissed.

            “It’s just a strange thing to do is all.”

            “It’s my business and this is my house, I can do whatever I like.”

            Except fire the housekeeper. He wasn’t paying her so he had no control over her. She was far too nosy for her own good too. Of course he knew she would tell Neal all about what was going on. He supposed it was proof that Neal cared and that thought clenched his heart. A part of him really wanted to tell his boy everything, but how could he? It was bad enough seeing the shame in his own eyes when he looked in the mirror, he couldn’t bear the idea of seeing his own son looking at him with disgust. It would be like his father’s ghost starting back at him.

            He had lost what little appetite he had and only finished the last bit of his toast because he knew Neal would want him to.

            “Henry is coming today, isn’t he?” Miss French asked.

            Gold smiled despite himself. Henry, his darling little grandson, a spot of innocence in his miserable existence. He always looked forward to Wednesdays. What had started out of necessity due to Emma’s busy schedule at the precinct had turned into the highlight of his life.

            “Yes,” Gold said.

            “What do you normally do with him?”

            “He’s a toddler,” Gold said, “I do what one normally does with toddlers.”

            “Yes, but I didn’t know if you had a routine or anything.”

            “Kids his age don’t have much of a routine other than a nap at 1:00,” he said. Clearly she’d never been around children much.

            She smiled again. “Right, well I don’t have much experience with kids, but I’m looking forward to meeting little Henry. He’s so adorable in pictures.”

            “He looks a lot like Neal did,” Gold said.

            “Oh yes, I saw the picture you have of Neal in a diaper next to one of Henry in the hallway,” Belle said, “They do look a lot alike.” She smiled at him over her cup of orange juice. “Good genes clearly run in the family.”

            Gold’s stomach dropped to his shoes. Oh God, she was flirting with him now. This was what had started it all, a pretty woman flirting with him, stoking his ego until finally she…they…

            _“Don’t pretend you don’t want this, Nicky. You’ve been flirting with me for years.”_

            “Mr. Gold? Mr. Gold, are okay? You look a bit pale.”

            He could still hear another woman’s voice ringing in his ears. Then he saw a slim hand reaching for his face. He slapped her viperous touch away. “Don’t touch me!” he shouted.

            His gut was churning now like the ocean in a hurricane. Gold shoved himself away from the table, nearly tripping over his own cane. He raced out of the kitchen. His ruined knee was screaming in pain, but he couldn’t feel it. For once his sanctuary was not to be his study.

            Gold barely made it to the bathroom in time before he left his breakfast in the toilet. He could hear her footsteps coming from him down the hall, so he kicked the door closed his with bad leg, grunting at the pain. His fingers fumbled for the lock, sealing him inside and far away from her.

            There was a gentle rap on the door. “Mr. Gold? Are you sick?” More knocking. “Mr. Gold, will you please open the door?”

            “Just go!” he snapped at her.

            “Please, can’t we just talk?”

            “No.”

            A long silence stretched out before them as he waited for her to leave and she waited for him to come out. It felt like hours before she finally did as he asked, her heels clicking away from the bathroom door. Only then did he allow himself to weep.

            Gold knew he couldn’t stay in there forever, but he certainly did not want to go out there and face her again. He felt dirty again so he used the hand soap and a washrag to scrub himself down. His skin felt prickly where he had rubbed too hard but it felt good. He wanted that tiny bit of pain.

            It seemed like hours when he heard a gentle knock on the door. “I’m going to the store,” Miss French said, “Emma called, she’ll be bringing Henry around ten. I guess I’ll see you when I get back.”

            He held his breath until he heard the heavy front door slam closed then he let it out slowly. Gold released the lock on the door and carefully stepped outside. The house was silent; she was really gone. He could breathe again.

            Gold used the time to take another shower and clean himself up as best he could. He then returned to the living room to pull out Henry’s toys he kept stored in the closet. The little Fisher Price toolshed he’d ordered last week was finally put together and he couldn’t wait for Henry to play with it.

            Still, his pulse jumped when he heard the doorbell ring. A quick glance at the clock told him it was five after ten. He took a deep breath and then opened the door.

            “Ganpa!” little Henry cried out from Emma’s arms.

            Gold smiled broadly at his grandson. “Hey Henry.”

            The toddler began to wiggle out of his mother’s grasp, his little hands reaching for his grandfather. “Yeah, yeah,” Emma said, “Ignore the woman who gave you life, go to the man with the shiny toys.”

            “He knows how to cater to the one who will spoil him the most,” Gold replied, eagerly accepted the squirming child. “Come on in,” he told her.

            “Where’s Belle?” Emma asked as soon as she walked through the door.

            Gold flinched, choosing to focus on Henry instead of his daughter-in-law. “She went to the store.”

            “Oh okay, I was hoping to say hi. She’s great, isn’t she?”

            He screwed his mouth shut. The worst part was he wished he could disagree with Emma, wished it was actually that simple. The truth was Belle seemed perfectly nice; he was the one who was broken, not her.

            “Neal will pick him up around six,” Emma said, “Don’t just feed him cookies for dinner.”

            “You’re ruining the fun, Emma,” he said with as close to as teasing smile as he could give.

            “Just one cookie for dessert or I’ll have my guys lock you in the tank with Stabby Jane the hooker.” She dropped a kiss onto Henry’s head. “Bye kiddo, remember that it’s okay to break all of grandpa’s expensive things.”

            “I would appreciate it if you didn’t listen to your mother, Henry,” Gold told his grandson.

            “He’s a good kid, he always listens to his mother,” she said with a grin. “Bye, see you both later.”

            Gold was fine with Emma. She always liked to bicker with him, pretending like they were enemies when they both knew they would go to bat for the other. Best of all, she never pushed. She didn’t ask him what was wrong or tried to send someone to spy on him. She just let him be.

            “Come on, Henry,” Gold said, “Let’s go build something with your new tool shed.”

            Henry loved imaginary games the best, so he eagerly took a plastic hammer and proceeded to pound on every surface with it. Emma would be pleased to know that her son did succeed in breaking an antique sewing box, but it wasn’t terribly valuable so little harm was actually done.

            Gold put the TV on to a children’s program, but Henry only gave it passing glances, except when a toilet paper commercial came on with the talking bears. He found those two minutes of animation far more fascinating than Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.

            Henry was in the middle of conducting a solo on the plastic keyboards when the front door opened again. A muscle in Gold’s cheek ticked but he kept his attention solely on Henry.

            “Hey, I’m back,” Miss French said with an armful of groceries hugged to her chest.

            “Hi hi!” Henry called out to her, giving a big wave.

            “Hello Henry,” she said cheerfully, “I’m glad I finally got to meet you. Let me put these in the kitchen then I’ll meet you proper.”

            Gold moved so he was sitting behind his grandson, putting on hand on his shoulder as he watched the doorway leading to the kitchen. His leg jittered, his heart pounding in his chest. What if he just took Henry and went to the park? Miss French could meet him another time. Henry would love the park and it was such a beautiful day. It would be better really, safer.

            She came out before he could leave with Henry. She smiled down at his grandson, sweet and kindly like Mary Poppins. “Hi Henry, are you having fun with your grandpa?”

            “Yes,” he said, pounding a plastic nail onto a cardboard puzzle piece. He’d gotten bored of the keyboards after Miss French had arrived.

            “I see you have lots of fun toys here. Which one is your favorite?”

            He either didn’t understand the question, or just was too engrossed with his new toys to answer. “The green crocodile,” Gold answered for her, pointing to the forgotten stuffed toy on the floor close to her feet.

            “Oh,” Belle said and picked up the toy, “And what’s his name?”

            Just then Henry saw her holding his beloved toy and pointed to it. “Crocky!” he said.

            “Well hello, Crocky,” Belle said, going so far as to shake one of the creature’s hands, “It’s very nice to meet you.”

            “Crocky,” Henry said again. This time he abandoned his tool set and hurried over to Belle, jumping up at her legs.

            She smiled and bent down to scoop him up. Henry let out a squeal of delight and then grabbed Crocky out from the crook of her arm to hug him close to his chest. Gold winced as he stood up from the floor.

            “You’re such a sweet boy,” Belle said. He smiled in agreement. “He has Neal’s eyes, well your eyes too.”

            Gold nodded. She was good with Henry, a nurturer from the start. Henry was happy being held by her. She would poke at his nose with her finger, making him giggle, and tousle his hair. Maybe…just maybe…could he trust her? Henry certainly did. Neal and Emma had known her for years. Was that enough to let her in?

            Belle laughed along with Henry and ruffled his hair again, “You are such a good boy.”

            The effect hit him like a bucket of cold water.

            _“You are such a good boy.”_

            No! No, she couldn’t be trusted, not with Henry, not with grandson. No one could. He could never trust anyone again.

            “Give him to me,” Gold hissed at her, reaching her and Henry in one stride.

            “What?” Miss French asked.

            “Give me Henry.”

            “It’s okay,” she said, “He’s okay, what’s—.”

            “ _Give me my grandson!_ ”

            Her large blue eyes flared open wide. Henry started crying, clutching his crocodile to his face. Wordlessly, she let him take Henry from her arms.

            “I’ll…I’ll go get dinner started,” she said quietly.

            Gold held Henry close to his chest, letting him cry it out. “It’s okay,” he whispered to him, “It’s okay, it will be all right. I won’t let anyone hurt you,” he said, “I swear it, Henry, I’ll never let anyone hurt you.”

            It was far too late for him, but he wasn’t about to let his grandson suffer the way he did. Even if it meant making the whole world hate him, Gold would protect those he loved from the same monsters that plagued him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me what you think! Sorry if I killed anyone with feels, LOL.


	3. A Small Measure of Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle finds something unexpected and updates Neal on his father, while Gold begins to wonder if maybe he can trust Belle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it has been so long since I've updated my major works. Sorry about that. I've been so busy with school work (but I graduated, yay!) and then I hit major writer's block. But I finally broke through, and I'm very proud of this chapter. I hope all of you like it.
> 
> Anonymous said:  
> Belle gives a report to Neal on the situation and gains some insight into the goings on of the Gold family.
> 
> betweenpaperpages said: Belle writes a schedule on the white board so Gold knows what chores she does on what days.

            It had been a month since Belle had begun her work as Mr. Gold’s housekeeper. Fridays were still her days off where she could meet up with her friends or just treat herself with a day at the library. A routine had now been established with her new job. She polished the floors on Mondays (last week had resulted in her sliding across the slick floor and knocking over a vase), dusted on Tuesdays, went grocery shopping and errands on Wednesday, washed on Thursdays. There were other odds and ends she did in between and on the weekends, but they varied. Still, Gold wasn’t underfoot at all so she spent a lot of her free time in his library feasting on the books.

            Mr. Gold was definitely an odd man. Something was wrong; she could feel it down in the marrow of her bones. This was more than just a grumpy middle-aged man. He reminded her of a cat she and Ruby had found when they were younger. Some boys had tied cans to it’s tail and were throwing rocks at it. She and Ruby had chased the boys away, but the cat hissed and tried to scratch at them even as they tried to help him. Like that cat, someone or something had wounded Gold and left him mistrustful of anyone, even those with a helping hand.

            Henry’s birthday was coming up and Gold left his home for the first time since Belle had moved in. She couldn’t figure out what was wrong with him, but she couldn’t fault his desire to please his grandson. She had seen the little nursery he’d set up for the boy carefully stocked with the latest toys of both educational and silly nonsense variety. It was meticulously decorated with murals of classic fairy tales on the walls; even a first edition of _Grimms’ Fairy Tales_ was stacked on the highest shelf. He only wanted the best for his grandson, and he couldn’t get that while sitting at home.

            Belle took advantage of his absence by blasting her music just a tad higher as she worked. She had come to know the brownstone very well during her chores, having counted four bedrooms, three full bathrooms, one half-bath, Henry’s nursery, the fabulous library, the parlor, the spacious living, kitchen, pantry, and dining room. The only room she had yet to set foot in was his study.

            He had told her to stay out of his study on her first day working for him, but surely he wouldn’t mind if she cleaned things up a bit. He rarely left his little sanctuary, sometimes even eating his meals in there. She’d lived with her father as well as seen a few boys’ dormitories during her college years to know that man caves rarely got a good scrubbing in. She just wanted to do some dusting, vacuum a little, and empty out the garbage. Maybe once he saw how she tidied up his little habitat he would begin to trust her a bit more.

            Armed with her supplies, Belle pushed open the door prepared to begin battle. It wasn’t the worst she’d ever seen. Mr. Gold always struck her more as a Felix than an Oscar, so what she found was more clutter than straight up tornado. There were stacks of used drinking glasses on the bar, and a few dirty plates also neatly stacked together. She saw a blanket folded on the sofa next to the little fireplace with a pillow placed on top of it. She’d had her suspicions that he was sleeping here, but seeing the tiny bed he had made only left her feeling even more puzzled…and sad. He had a wonderful bedroom upstairs. Why was he insistent on locking himself in this room?

            She set to work cleaning up the dirty dishes and glasses and taking the trash out with her. She ran the vacuum first and then took the pillowcase and blanket out with her for a wash. There was no doubt that he would be spending the night on the couch again, but at least his bedding would be clean. She Febreezed the sofa and then wiped and polished his gorgeous brown leather chair. Belle stopped occasionally just to look around Mr. Gold’s lair. This was his private space that was meant entirely for him. The bar was well stocked and she saw a cigar humidor set beside it. She could easily imagine him coming in here after a long day at the office, grabbing a fifth of scotch and a cigar, sitting on the sofa and relaxing as he stared into the flickering fire. He fireplace was cold now, and there were quite a few empty bottles of liquor in the trashcan. Something had taken the warmth out of his sanctuary.

            What surprised Belle the most was finding a bookshelf completely filled with magnificent books. There were some boring, thick legal tomes, but also a complete set of _The Works of William Shakespeare_ , a fabulous copy of _The Count of Monte Cristo_ , as well as some more recent works such as James Patterson, even a copy of _The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo_. It appeared that Mr. Gold liked to read. With a smile, Belle’s mental image changed to him sitting on the sofa with a scotch in his hand with a much-loved book opened on his knee. Did he still read or had whatever happened to him stolen that joy away from him as well?

            Belle moved on to the desk next. She rearranged the papers so they weren’t so scattered, and then set them aside so she could polish the wood. It really was a lovely antique made of mahogany with iron knobs and embellishments. She didn’t know enough about antiques to verify the make and age. Perhaps she should find a book on the subject.

            She was dusting around one of the ornamental knobs when it gave way under her pressure. There was a slight clicking sound then the side of the desk swung open slightly. It was a secret compartment! She’d heard of antiques having such things, but had never seen one in person.

            Her intention was only to clean. Whatever was bothering Gold, she knew he was a private man and she respected that he needed his space. However, no person in the world could resist the draw of a secret compartment. Her dust cloth and polish were abandoned on the desk. Belle didn’t know what she expected to find when she reached inside, perhaps a diary, or maybe old letters. What she found was something she never could have anticipated.

            Porn.

            The compartment had several wrinkled magazines all made up of half naked or fully nude woman, many with painfully obvious implants that had Belle wondering how they managed to stand upright. They varied from sensual pictures of women in lingerie under the title of _Linger_ to much more explicit material such as _Bound and Bared._ She flipped through them, snorting at some of the titles, _Bad Houeskeeping, Nipple Chronicles, Bombeshells_ , and others with less than subtle headlines. It actually wasn’t the first time she’d discovered such magazines. She and her father had moved into a new apartment when she was fifteen, and while unpacking some of things she’d stumbled upon a few battered copies of Playboy. Her father had seen her with them and sheepishly stuffed them away, claiming they must have been the movers as his cheeks turned bright red.

            Now Gold was a bachelor and this was his private study. There was no harm in him indulging in such fare, though it was a bit surprising. He never struck her as the type to take himself in hand while staring at a picture of a woman bending over in the barn with double D sized breasts. He had enough money to enjoy the company of many beautiful starlets. Why settle for a pale imitation when he could easily indulge in the real thing?

            She was prepared to put the magazines back into their hiding place, but one caught her eye. The cover of the magazine had been torn almost completely off. She could still read the title _Business and Pleasure_ , but whoever graced the cover page had been rather rudely torn away. The way the jagged edge curved suggested that it had been intentional, which struck her as odd. Her friend Ariel adored TV shows that featured rare collectible items and occasionally vintage porn magazines appeared on the program. She knew enough that the magazines were worthless without the cover. A quick flip through the magazine showed that it featured women in office spaces dressed in ties and little else, sometimes with toys. However, there were other pictures also ripped out. A tiny spot of color around one edge caught her interest.

            Belle brought the torn page up to her eye to get a closer look. The tiny patch of red hair was visible, all that remained of the person who once graced the page. She put down that magazine and grabbed another, rifling through the pages until she found more spots ripped away. More small fragments of red hair. After more flipping and looking, she realized that every magazine he owned had been turned into a “redhead free” zone. All other women of various hues, whether it be skin or hair, were there but no redheads whatsoever.

            “What are you doing?”

            Belle gasped, nearly lifting from the floor in fright. She looked over her shoulder and saw two brown eyes glaring at her with venom. She scrambled to her feet, nearly slipping on one of the magazines. “I…well I was…”

            “I told you to _never_ come in here!” he snapped.

            “I was just cleaning,” she said, “I thought maybe you would like a clean study. I didn’t mean to find…those.”

            “Get out!” he shouted. He grabbed a crystal vase from the table and tossed it into the cold fireplace. “Get out!”

            Belle didn’t hesitate. She raced past him for the door, leaving her cleaning supplies behind. She ran up to her room, slamming the door behind her. She knew he wouldn’t follow her. It was possible he would never leave his precious study again.

* * *

          Belle spent the rest of Thursday staying as far away from Gold’s study as possible. However, as she tossed around in her bed, seeking some measure of sleep, she couldn’t help but think about what had happened. She had been frightened at first, and he had certainly been angry, but there was something else there. There had been something in his eyes that she’d glimpsed as she’d escaped from him, something more painful than fury.

            He could have thrown the vase at her, but instead he’d thrown it towards the fireplace. He could have grabbed her as she sped away, could have followed her to her room and forced her out of his home, but he didn’t. Neal had told her years ago about his father’s temper, but he’d never said anything about his father being violent. He wouldn’t hurt her. She couldn’t say how she was so certain of that fact, but she could feel it. This was all just further proof that something was wrong with Mr. Gold. He was hiding something, but she could not figure out what.

            Neal had called her earlier in the week to ask her to lunch on Friday. Belle knew his real reason for meeting with her, a desire to know how his father was doing. She couldn’t blame him; she just wished she had more concrete information to give him.

            They agreed to meet at a little café not too far from his office. As she sat there with her ice tea and waited for Neal, she couldn’t help but wonder if Mr. Gold had ever come to this place for lunch or maybe even grabbed something for dinner if he stayed late at work. Her eventful visit to his study had revealed a great deal of paperwork so she knew he must have been heavily invested in his work. Surely this extended leave of absence was not easy for him.

            Neal swept into the chair across from her, setting his briefcase on the floor beside him. “Sorry I’m a little late,” he said, “We have a big case going on.”

            Belle smiled. “It’s okay, I didn’t wait long.”

            It was weird seeing Neal in a suit and tie. In college he was strictly in band t-shirts that may have been worn for three days straight, pizza stained jeans, and questionable sneakers. He really had grown up. They all had, but it seemed that while he was going places, she had put the pause button on her plans due to her father’s illness. Now he was gone and she couldn’t remember what those plans had been or how to find them again.

            The waitress came to get their orders and take their menus away before bringing Neal his coffee. “So how are things going?” he asked.

            “Fine,” she said, wincing at the squeak in his voice.

            “Remember when we played poker and I cleaned you out? You can’t lie, Belle, no matter how hard you try.”

            Belle looked down into her tea. “I know. Sorry, I just don’t like upsetting you.”

            “Is it really that bad?”

            “Well…I don’t know. I mean yesterday was bad, but mostly he’s just hiding in his study all day.”

            “What happened yesterday?”

            Belle filled Neal in all of the details, his eyebrows lifting to his hairline when she mentioned the hidden porn magazines.

            “That doesn’t sound like my dad,” Neal said, “He hates porn. He made me rip up the Playboy he found in my room when I was fourteen.”

            “Well, its not like men don’t have them,” Belle said, “And it’s different with kids.”

            “No, I’m telling you, he was never into that sort of thing.”

            “You know him better than I do,” she said with a shrug.

            “What else happened?”

Belle continued her story, biting her lip when she brought up how Mr. Gold had caught her. He scowled when she told him about his father’s reaction to her intrusion. “I’m sorry about that, Belle. My father’s always had a temper, but he doesn’t usually do that in front of people. If you want to quit, I won’t be hurt.”

            “No, I don’t want to do that,” Belle told him, “I was frightened at first, but I don’t think he was going to hurt me or even that he was entirely angry with me. I think…I think some it may be more personal than that.”

            “Have you found out why he’s acting this way?” Neal pleaded. He was so desperate; she could see it in his eyes that so mirrored his father’s.

            She solemnly shook her head. He sighed and pressed his face into his hands. “Neal, can I ask, what do you think is wrong?”

            “I don’t know,” he admitted, “I thought…well I was thinking maybe he was sick or something.” He stared at his hands on the table as he spoke. “I thought because of your dad, you might be able to figure it out and how to help him.”

            Belle nodded a little and gave him half a smile. “I understand.” She’d suspected that was what he was thinking. She’d looked for the signs herself. Certainly Mr. Gold was thin, but his color wasn’t bad nor did she notice any skin discoloration or violent bouts of nausea. “I don’t think your father is sick,” she said, “My dad tried to hide his illness from me, or at least how badly it affected him, but it wasn’t like this. He would just try and hide how weak he was getting, or put on a brave face on his bad days. He had his moments of anger, but he refused to give up. He fought because he had me. Your dad has you, Emma, and little Henry. If he were sick, he would do everything he could to fight it.”

            Moe French had never been a rich man. He’d made sure Belle had lived comfortably, but their means had never been luxurious. He’d done all he could to fight the cancer eating him up inside, fought until his last breath. He didn’t have the money Mr. Gold did. He had enough wealth to buy the fountain of youth, let alone the best doctors in the world. She knew how much Gold loved Henry and Neal. He would see every specialist and more before letting any illness take him.

            “So what are you saying exactly?” Neal asked.

            “He isn’t sick. It’s something else, something…darker.”

            “Like what?”

            “Do you remember Aurora back in college?” Belle asked him. She continued at his nod. “Well I remember sophomore year when she was mugged coming back from a party off campus. She was really freaked out after that, started carrying pepper spray and a brass knuckles with her, made sure she never was out alone at night. She even had Mai, the foreign exchange student from China, teach her martial arts.”

            “So you think he was mugged?” Neal asked and then shook his head. “No way. My dad has made enemies before and stared down the barrels of guns before. He gets pissed off, but he doesn’t break like this.”

            “I’m not saying he was mugged, I’m saying that Aurora went through something traumatic that left her feeling vulnerable and scared. I think your father feels the same way.”

She let out a sigh and then touched Neal’s hand, making him look her in the eye again. “Something horrible happened to your dad. I don’t know what it is, can’t even begin to guess, but it must have been something he couldn’t fight against, something that has altered his idea of the world and himself. He doesn’t trust people right now. Something or someone has made him afraid and he is trying to pull himself back together.”

            Neal slid his hand away from her, not blinking even as the waitress came and put their food in front of them. “So you’re saying there is nothing I can do?”

            “I don’t think that,” Belle said, “And I’m not giving up.”

            “Really? Even after what he did?”

            “He wants me to go because that will prove him right,” she said, “The only way to get him to trust me is if I stay. I’ve got to reach him some how. Maybe then, he’ll tell us what is wrong.”

            Neal took in a breath and let it out slowly. “Thank you, Belle. I’m not sure how I’ll repay you for this.”

            “You can start with lunch,” she teased, giving him a wink as she picked up her burger.

            Neal laughed and took up his fork. “Deal.”

* * *

          It had not been a good night for Gold, but that was not unusual. His outing had been successful at least, but he hadn’t expected to find _her_ in his study when he got back. This was the only room in his house that felt like his. It was his sanctuary. Now his refuge had been breached.

            He had taken out the magazines from his not-so-secret compartment. It was humiliating having them brought out to the light of day. Still, it didn’t truly matter. They were worthless. He’d tried everything, done every thing he could think of, but there was no fixing himself. He couldn’t make his body function for him and only him again. He had been robbed of more than just his peace.

            Now his security had been stolen from a different source. He told her to never come in here! Was there no place left for him to feel safe? He should feel guilty for frightening Belle…he actually did a little. She didn’t…she wasn’t…at least sometimes he felt like maybe she was different. She was Neal’s friend. He trusted his son’s judgment. Unfortunately, he’d misplaced his trust before, so he couldn’t put much weight on that.

            It was August, but he had made a fire anyways. The orange and yellow flames had always made him relax, even feel a bit powerful. He’d often enjoyed coming home and just lounging in front of fire to let the day roll away. That was when he was working, when he was respected, feared even, when he was still a man.

            Gold stared down at the magazines, glaring at the pictures. He’d never cared for the stuff. Oh he’d looked at it when he was younger, but it always seemed to cheapen women and men in his eyes. But it had a purpose, a reason for being, and it had failed him. Now the pictures mocked him, reminding him of how pathetic he was.

            He snarled and threw all of the magazines into the fire. The thin, glossy images blackened and curled as the orange flames devoured them all. There was some satisfaction in watching the pictures being destroyed. It may not restore him, but at least he felt a tiny fraction of his old self still there.

            A gentle knock on the door disrupted him from his bit of peace. “Mr. Gold?” Belle French’s muffled voice came in from the other side.

            “Go away,” he told her.

            “Please, Mr. Gold. I just want to apologize,” she said, “And I have something for you?”

            “I don’t want anything.”

            “I understand, but I won’t leave until you open this door and tell that to me in person.”

            Damn she was stubborn. He could appreciate doggedness in people, but right now he was just annoyed. He stood up from his perch in front of the fire and stomped over to the door, unlocking it and flinging it open with all the resolve he had left.

            Miss French stood there, her petite frame as solid as a stone wall. In her hands she didn’t have anything threatening or emasculating. Instead, she had a set of carefully folded sheets and a pale blue quilt. His imposing scowl fell away to one of puzzlement.

            “I wanted to apologize for invading your privacy,” she said, “I only meant to help clean your study, but I should have asked your permission first. I’m sorry for that.”

            She pushed her arms forward and his hands reached out to take the bedclothes on instinct. “I brought these for you. I know you’re sleeping in there, and I thought you might be a bit more comfortable with these.”

            “I…” What was this? She was thinking about his comfort? Why would she do that?

            “Oh, I have something else.” She briefly turned away to pick up a whiteboard he didn’t remember having from a table down the hall. “I put my cleaning schedule on here,” she said, “That way you can know where I am and what I am doing. If you want to leave something for me or have a request, you can write it on here as well. I’ll leave it in the kitchen, unless you want to keep it here by your study, whichever you prefer.”

            What was this? Why was she doing this? It didn’t make any sense to him. Granted, it was a relief to have some idea of where she was. In some ways, it felt like she was trying to remind him that this was still his home. Maybe…maybe she was?

            “Thank you,” he said in barely a whisper, but her smile indicated that she’d heard him.

            “You’re welcome,” she said, “Now I’m ordering pizza for dinner. Would you like some?”

            “Yes,” he said.

            “Okay. I’ll bring it to you when it arrives. I’ll knock so you know it’s me.”

            “I…I would like that,” he said.

            “That’s good. I’ll be back with dinner then,” she promised, giving him one last pretty smile before leaving him alone in his study.

            He still held the sheets with the whiteboard resting on top of it. Had she really done all of this? She wasn’t angry or afraid of what he’d done? Instead she’d tried to make him more comfortable with her presence. This was nothing like he’d anticipated. A part of him felt unsettled, that voice reminding him of how he’d put his trust in someone once and now was broken because of that.

            Yet another, smaller, quieter voice said that she could be different. Just maybe, this was a start of something good. He couldn’t trust her, not yet, but maybe he could hope to, just a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review and let me know what you think.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think!


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